Truth
by Splintered Star
Summary: Yoshiya Kiryuu knows who he is, and that is not his father's pretty daughter. trans!ftm!Joshua, pregame.


(Pregame, ftm!Joshua. Not mine, clearly. Contains about fifteen minutes worth of googling about Japanese culture and politics in the 50's.)

Yoshiya Kiryuu knows who he is.

His mother fusses over his hair, saying, "Kimiko, don't wear your hair so wild! You know how to dress yourself, child."

He bites the inside of his painted lips, and does not react. Today they will be meeting a member of the parliament, some influential man with a son who shows promise. Mother has been in touch.

Yoshiya has no objection to the male form, none at all. Less than he perhaps should. But he will be no one's pretty tame wife. He will be nothing so boring. So he plans on being unsuitable for marriage - not so unsuitable as to be offensive, of course, he doesn't have nearly enough power to pull that off - but just enough that he will not be chosen.

In the end his hair is pinned back, but not well. He is planning his act - making mistakes with tea, not taking off his shoes maybe, or laughing a bit too loud or a bit too long - when they settle down into the tea house. The man is already there, kneeling. Tea is readied by a servant girl whose eyes linger on the glittering pins in Yoshiya's hair. There goes that bit of planning.

"Greetings, Kiryuu-san," the politician bows to Yoshiya's father. "This is your daughter?" He inclines his head at Yoshiya.

"Greetings, Ikeda-sama," His father bows, even deeper. "And yes, this is my beautiful flower. Kimi-chan, make your greetings."

Yoshiya nearly growls, the words "I am your son," on his tongue. He swallows them down - he has said them before, and it was dismissed as the nonsense of a silly girl. They come up again in his throat, transformed: "I do not belong to you." He swallows those as well, and saves them. He will say them, one day, but not yet.

So he smiles brightly and bows, nearly to the floor. "It is an honor to meet you, Ikeda-sama." Then he smirks, barely, a gentle twitch of his painted lips, and says, "Your work with the Kouchi Kai is inspiring."

Out of the corner of his eye he can see his father's face falter for a moment, because Kimiko is a girl and a child and should not be aware of the workings of politics. Yoshiya is always aware of things he should not be.

Ikade-sama blinks, just once, and his expression flickers between confusion and flattered. It settles on flattery when Yoshiya adds, "At least, that is what I have heard said."

"Your child is well spoken, Kiryuu-san. I think, perhaps, she will be a good match for my son." Yoshiya bites the inside of his lip again. That backfired, slightly, but still repairable. Next to him his father bows, pleasure and relief evident on his face. Kimiko has always a troublesome child, because Kimiko refuses to be anyone other than Yoshiya unless it pleases him.

Yoshiya smiles and blushes and hides behind his fan, and waits for his potential husband to arrive. When he does, the young man's smile is bright and perfect and Yoshiya barely notices because -

-because there is a snake wrapped around the man's throat, a snake that exists and does not, its fangs digging into his veins and how does he not feel it, does he not notice the poison, and Yoshiya nearly drops his fan before he realizes. It's a monster, a demon, one of those things that no one can see but he.

His father called it a fancy, just her imagination, not real. But Yoshiya knows who he is and what he sees.

"Greetings," the young man says as he kneels, as the snake flickers its tail through him. "I hope that my wife has found the tea pleasing."

His father smiles, pleasure coloring his expression again, but Yoshiya bristles at the presumption. He smiles bright and brittle, and he would never say this, too risky, too much, but the snake is glancing at him and those who bear demons are never, ever safe - so he lowers his fan and says, "I am not your bride yet, Ikade-san."

A half moment of pause, as everyone processes her nerve - the snake bites deeper into the man's neck and his expression darkness for a half moment - then Yoshiya's father smiles as a peacemaking movement.

"My daughter knows the value of a man, Ikade-sama. She will not be won by just any man." He says, covering, making it his daughter's arrogance into a compliment. It's repulsive, but it works. The other men all laugh, quietly, and Yoshiya hates them all.

Instead, he watches the snake release its fangs, dripping poison down the man's shirt.

"Of course, love won is love treasured," the man says, the snake resettling itself around his neck. "I will gladly prove myself as a man worthy of such a beautiful woman."

Yoshiya smiles and says nothing, because all that would come out is venom.

Their fathers leave them alone for a few moments, to walk among the cherry trees. It is transparent and insulting, and Yoshiya walks stiffly. He hates these shoes.

The man tries compliments, tries reminders of his riches and power, but Yoshiya is in no mood to play political games, not when his own freedom is the prize. Not with a demon so close to him, so close he can almost feel the poison dripping, can hear it sizzle on the ground, and then the snake releases its prey and lunges for him -

-he can't help but flinch back, because demons have never attacked him before but that's because he's never let them get the chance, and sometimes they feed and sometimes they just take people, dragging them away to realms that not even he can see.

His potential husband blinks at him, and he can see the thoughts through his mind - weak-minded timid mad? - without any effort. It was accident but it will be enough. His freedom is yet assured."I must apologize, Ikade-san," Yoshiya bows, his hands shaking around his fan, "But I must retire."

He turns and walks out of the garden with no politeness, and as soon as he is out of sight is takes a different turn, not back to the tea house but into the servant's quarters, not bothering taking off his shoes. The servant girl gapes at him, this high-born girl bursting into her rooms. He pulls off his kimono - so *traditional*, father - and yanks the jeweled pins out of his hair.

His hair tumbles down around his neck, and he uses a bit of his kimono to rub off his make up. He pulls something clean out of a laundry pile, some western style clothes that would fit him, make him feel like himself. He's not overly fond of westernization, but at least it's novel.

The girl stares at him in horror, surprise, and he holds out the pins she stared at earlier to her.

"You can have them, if you tell no one you saw me."

She stares at him, at the pins, and then at the sounds of the men, angry, shouting. Something sympathetic - he hates her interpretation but he'll use it - curls in her eyes, and takes them with a bow. "Be safe, Kiryuu-domo."

He pauses as he leaves, kicking off his shoes, and says, "Don't call me that. I am not my mother."

He will be no one but who he wishes to be.

The streets are busy and crowed and like this, he can see so many demons, but they all seem occupied with other prey. He can see people running from them, those that no one else can see.

The game must be running right now. He doesn't know a lot, doesn't know what sort of game it is or why it exists, only that only he can see it, see them.

Sometimes he sees them win. Sometimes he sees them die.

He walks through the city, looking at everything, watching people run through the crowd and be unnoticed as they pass through people. Ghosts, perhaps, but there isn't a single spider-she-demon among them.

He always liked that story.

Freedom is only for a little while, until someone recognizes him -

so best to go somewhere no one will. He walks with bare feet, ruining his socks, towards a part of the newly dubbed Tokyo he has never been allowed. Too new, too western, too full of strange ideas and strange people. Artists and singers are well and good, but so many of them...

But he's not watching, and the game runs too close - he feels someone pass through him and he gasps, because it's cold and makes his eyes burn but then the demons chasing them are right there and it's shark jaws are wide open and -

Yoshiya is not a timid child but neither is he stupid. He runs, and for a moment he is enthralled by the chase, by the danger, the challenge, bumping into people without apology -

-until someone catches him and he stumbles to a stop, breath panting against the stranger's shoulder.

"Hey, hey, girlie, are you okay?" Yoshiya looks up to snap at the man, because he is fine and he is no little girl, he is himself -

-and all he sees is a blaze of white wings.

The man manages to maneuver him into a building, into a seat. The smell of tea and something else, something bitter and warm, permeates everything, and Yoshiya just catches his breath.

The man sits across from him. He looks... strange, white wings aside, western style mixed with traditional styles in a way Yoshiya has never seen before. It's fascinating. "Breathe, girlie. What were you running from?"

Yoshiya is still off balance, and snaps, "I am not a girl."

The man looks at him for a long moment, and it feels like he's looking through, or into, him. Then he smiles, and somehow, there's something fond in it. "Sorry, my mistake. What do you call yourself?"

Yoshiya blinks, once, and then smiles. He's never had anyone believe him before. "...Yoshiya." He says finally. He offers no family name. "Yours?"

The man's grin is bright, sharp and cheerful. "Hanekoma. Sanae Hanekoma." His wings shift, slightly, and Yoshiya watches the movement. He's seen people with black wings, sharp edged and metal like war ships, but never white. These wings only barely exist in his sight, almost outlines or a film on reality, but what he can see is so bright it burns.

Hanekoma follows the line of his sight, and blinks, then sets his tea cup down. His shoulders twitch and then his wings are gone completely, fading out of his vision. He's almost disappointed. They were interesting.

"I'm surprised, kid." Hanekoma says, leaning on his elbows. He has no manners. Fascinating. "Most people can't see my wings." He grins. "You're a pretty special kid."

Yoshiya has always known that he saw the truth, but to hear someone acknowledge it - he swallows down tea that had somehow appeared in front of him, and then says, "I see lots of things."

Hanekoma inclined his head. "I bet so, kid. You wanna stay a while?"

A place with someone new and interesting, someone who doesn't call him a silly girl or a mad woman, away from marriage and kimonos and ridiculous shoes? Of course he does. He sips some more tea and settles into his seat.


End file.
